


Long Sleeves During Summer

by LockWhoSuper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Brief Mention of Suicide, Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4340297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LockWhoSuper/pseuds/LockWhoSuper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew what wearing long sleeves during a Kansas summer meant. The chronic insomnia, the random sentimental gifts, the hollowness that just consumed Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Sleeves During Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Authors notes- This is a fic I started when I was having a bad day, but I finished it on a good day so it ends up okay. Warning for self harm, and sad stuff of the like, please procced with caution if that stuff upsets you. I just want you guys to be safe :)
> 
> Also, sorry if the portrayal is dumb. Or if, ya' know, the whole thing is just stupid. Please let me know if there's any changes I can make.
> 
> Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters,nor am I making money from this.

"I'm fine, Cas." Was all Dean said before giving the blue eyed man a cocky smirk that didn't reach his clouded eyes. Leaving Castiel's chest gaping around the awful feeling Dean left hanging in the air between them. 

 

The thing was, Castiel already _knew_ the answer to his "are you alright, Dean?" And Castiel didn't know which hurt more, Dean lying to him every time, or Castiel's own inability to demand the truth. 

 

Because Castiel _knew_ what wearing long sleeves during a Kansas summer meant. The chronic insomnia, the random sentimental gifts, the hollowness that just consumed Dean. The hollowness everyone ignored including himself because it was taboo, and too hard to confront. 

 

Castiel also knows that he _should_ confront Dean. But every time he thinks about it his palms get sweaty and heat prickles his scalp, the drafts of conversations he's had to himself in the bathroom mirror get trapped behind the forming lump in his throat he can't swallow or spit up so he let's the conversations drift from his mind and he pretends like everything's fine, like his boyfriend isn't hurting. 

 

Pretends that he can't see the jagged and raw cuts on Dean's wrists when his sleeves ride up when he uses his hands to exaggerate what he's saying. 

 

Pretends that his cell phone battery died when Dean sends him a text message at 3am. 

 

Castiel tries to convince himself with shaky hands and forced smiles, that Dean _is_ honestly fine because it can't be _that_ bad if Dean's still turning up to school and gushing over Star Trek like everything's normal, and if Dean _was_ really _that_ bad, he'd reach out to Castiel on his own accord. 

 

But then Castiel has to dig his knuckles into his chest because his heart is throwing itself against his ribcage so hard that it hurts. 

 

Because he knows that this is a _lie_. 

 

They were in biology, Dean sitting next to him, bowlegs spread out in front of his desk. Castiel just turned his head away, choosing to stare down at his notebook. Tears welled in his eyes and he blinked them away rapidly before they spilled over, threatening to smudge the ink on his page. 

 

Dean wasn't fine, and Castiel didn't know what to do. He felt so helpless and small. Useless. Ugly. A horrible person and even worse of a friend. A partner. Dean deserved better than him. Castiel just shook his head, and doodled a small bumble bee on the margin of his page. _I'm selfish too,_ he thought and flicked his eyes over to Dean, stealing a look from under his lashes. 

 

Dean was tracing straight lines against the sleeve of his shirt with the tips of his fingers, an exhausted expression splashed across his face. Castiel looked back to his notebook. 

 

He needed to do something. Help somehow. But it was useless, Castiel was useless. They were 17, what did Castiel know about helping someone _not_ end their life? 

 

Choking down his own feelings, Castiel mentally slapped himself for being so foolish. Castiel wasn't allowed to feel this way when Dean was worse. 

 

With heavy strokes of his pen, Castiel angrily scribbled out the bumble bee on his page until all that remained was a black mass of ink and a crease in his brow. 

 

School was obviously not the place for the conversation that they needed to have. That _Dean_ needed to have. Castiel scribbled more black lines on his page. _Good thing it was lunch next,_ he thought to himself. He'd have two hours to come up with another flimsy conversation concerning Dean's well fair during lunch and his free period. 

 

The shrill of the bell signaling lunch pierced Castiel's thoughts and Dean was already crowding his space, his thigh pressing impatiently against Castiel's desk, calloused, tanned hands that Castiel loved so much were flipping his note books closed. 

 

"Come on Cas, it's pizza Friday!" Despite himself Castiel laughed easily and allowed himself to be swept up in Dean for the moment. Still shy with public displays of affection, Dean hesitantly slipped his fingers between Castiel's as they walked through the masses of other students through the halls to the cafeteria. Castiel squeezed Dean's hand tightly and pressed a soft kiss to Dean's heated cheek. 

 

Throwing themselves into the swarm of students buying their lunch or just chatting with their friends they hadn't seen in an hour, Castiel let Dean order him a slice and grinned when the rest of their group of friends pushed in line to stand next to them and stole the slices of pizza straight from Dean's hands. Dean shouted an amused 'Hey!' and chased after Charlie until she made it to their unofficial designated seat. 

 

_Maybe I should ask Charlie to help me help Dean?_ Castiel thought to himself as he trailed slowly behind them. Interrupting those particular thoughts, Garth slipped up beside Castiel and linked their arms together. 

 

"Yo Castiel, snapped back into reality by your main man Garth. What's happening bro?" Castiel chuckled and tightened their arms. 

 

"Oh you know, the usual." Garth hummed appriciently as they reached their table. Releasing Garth's arm, Castiel took his hand instead and bowed. "Thank you for walking me, my Lord." 

 

"The pleasure was all mine, your Grace." Garth replied, his Victorian accent a little cliche compared to Castiel's. There was a collective giggle from the table and suddenly a possessive set of arms were enveloping Castiel's waist. 

 

"Dean-O," came a southern drawl from Charlie's side of the table. "Don't bare your teeth at Garth." 

 

A disgruntled grumble was all Benny got in reply from Dean. Castiel just smirked in Benny's general direction and made a show of 'fainting' on Dean's lap like a damsel in distress. 

 

"My big beefcake man is jealous," Castiel fawned. Dean's laugh warmed Castiel's chest as it rang out through the busy cafeteria. It would be one of the many, many things that Castiel would miss if Dean went where he couldn't follow. Feeling a kiss pressed against his unruly raven hair, he slid off of Dean's lap onto the seat beside him. 

 

"You alright babe?" Dean whispered into the crook of his neck and Castiel swallowed and nodded hastily. 

 

Castiel could feel the frown against his skin. "You're lying." 

 

"So are you," he shot back and he wasn't very surprised when Dean stiffened and shifted away from him. Leaving him cold and disgusted with himself. _At least it's now out in the open,_ he thought bitterly and pushed his slice of pizza over to Kevin. 

 

There was a heavy and bitter silence between the two during the rest of the lunch hour and Dean slipped off without saying goodbye. Trudging his way to the library, Castiel went straight to the computers instead of finding a book on ancient Greece for his social sciences class. 

 

Veins thrumming with a familiar anxiety, he flexes his pale fingers across the yellowed and worn keys while the old monitor screams in protest after being woken from its screen saver. The Internet Explorer browser takes 3 minutes to load until it can function and Castiel spends those minutes bouncing his knee and chewing his bottom lip raw. 

 

_How do I help my depressed boyfriend?_ He types into the Google search bar and he clicks the first result he sees. 

 

_1\. Be there for him._

_5\. Be his shoulder to cry on._

_7\. Show your love for him._

_8\. Don't expect attention from him._

_10\. Don't act differently around him._

 

_Haven't I already been doing these things?_ He grumpily thinks to himself and forcefully turns off the computer without closing his browser. He's probably broken the old machine but he doesn't give it a second thought. 

 

On a whim he fishes for his cell phone in his pocket and sends Dean a quick message. Dean will get in trouble for having his phone on in class but Castiel doesn't care, he's ignoring his morals and acting irrationally. On the same whim he slings his back pack over his shoulder and dashes out of the library. He needs to be at home, _now_. He's never skipped class before, and even though it's not technically a class, he barks a rebellious laugh as he jogs down the cracked sidewalks weaving his way home. 

 

Inside, he only has 45 minutes to put everything he's planned into action. Chucking off his backpack and his coat, Castiel throws on the light blue sweater Dean got him for his 16th birthday and rushes into the kitchen. In the freezer there's a store brought apple pie that will just have to do because there's no time to stitch one together from scratch the way he wants to. With the pie in the oven, Castiel cleans up his living room and plugs his iPod into the speakers set up there and shuffles a mix of the playlists Dean's made him over the years. 

 

It's not much, but it's warm and homey, comfortable. Safe. 

 

And all Castiel can think of. 

 

As expected, Castiel can hear the rumble of Dean's Chevy Impala before he can see the car itself from his agitated spot at the window. 

 

He's standing and ready to greet Dean in the alcove of his front door. 

 

There's a lazy smile spreading its way across of Castiel's face when his eyes land in Dean, hands still on the steering wheel. He almost forgets why he invited Dean over. Forcing himself to relax, Castiel crooks his hip against the frame of the door and waits patiently for Dean as he leisurely makes his way up Castiel's front steps. 

 

"Hey Cas," he says with an eye crinkling smile and he stands on the tips of his toes to kiss him. Kisses from Dean never fail to make his heart soar in his chest. 

 

"Hello Dean," Castiel replies softly and captures Dean's lips with his own again. "Why don't you come inside?" He mumbles against Dean's lips moments later and Dean smirks and steps forwards, making Castiel take a step back to avoid being stepped on. They do an awkward little dance while Dean fumbles to close the door behind them and Castiel gets dipped by Dean in the process. Complaints being ignored through his gasping laughs, Dean leans down and nips at the exposed hallow of Castiel's throat, making Castiel gasp and dig his fingers into Dean's firm shoulders. 

 

"Dean!" He manages to squeak out and Dean pauses his ministrations against Castiel's throat and tilts him back to his feet. Dean seems to have forgotten what Castiel had said in the cafeteria. He relishes in the moment. 

 

"Do I smell pie?" Dean whispers in a childish excitement. Castiel nods his head in the direction of the kitchen but his fingers close around Dean's wrist when he starts to pull away. Dean's forehead crinkles in confusion. 

 

"What is it Cas?" All the moisture in Castiel's mouth evaporates. 

 

This is it. The moment he's been waiting for. Blood rushing to his ears, his heart pounds in his chest. It's so loud and shattering he's sure Dean will be able to hear it. 

 

"Can we talk?" His voice is raspy and he can hardly spit out the words. Dean shifts his weight onto his other foot and the rooms so quiet it makes Castiel's skin crawl. There's never been a silence like this between them before. Castiel has to let go of Dean's wrist because his palms are so sweaty. 

 

Dean raises an eyebrow. A signature, cocky gesture that Castiel knows is a defensive reflex. Dean heads towards his living room and sits stiffly on the sofa. Sitting an entire cushion away, Castiel pivots his body to face Dean, opens his mouth to speak, and then freezes. Breath caught in his throat, eyes wide, pulse frantic. "I-" Is all he manages to push from his lungs. 

 

Dean purses his lips in a way that shouldn't be adorable. But in fact it unfairly is. Castiel sits, staring at Dean with an intense concentration. Blue eyes pierce into green and Castiel counts the freckles spattered across Dean's nose before continuing. 

 

"I'm worried about you." He finally manages and tears prick behind his eyes. 

 

There's a hesitation from Dean as emotions filters across his face. Confusion, surprise, shock, something Castiel doesn't understand, anger, then finally just a blank resting expression. "I'm fine, Cas." He says in response but his voice sings out flat and lifeless. 

 

Castiel shakes his head and shuffles just a little bit closer to Dean on the sofa, fingers twitching in their spot on his lap. "I've seen the cuts Dean. I... I know you've been, depressed, and I did some research-" 

 

Dean cuts Castiel off with a strangled noise from deep in his throat. "I am not depressed." 

 

Fidgeting in his seat, Castiel rubs his palms against his pants. "You're tired all the time-" 

 

"I'm a teenager." Dean says, voice an octave higher than usual. 

 

"-because you don't sleep. Because you're insomniatic, it's a... Sort of, side effect-" Castiel shruggs loosely and scrunched his nose at his choice of words. "-from the depression. When you smile... It's, fake. You force yourself to because if you don't people will ask questions. You wear long sleeves during summer-" 

 

"Castiel." Dean interrupts again and this time Castiel stops his ramblings. Biting his tongue until he swallows the metallic taste of blood. "I am not depressed. I'm just..." Dean trails off. Scratching the back of his neck he seems to deflate where he sits and Castiel inches forwards again, until he's only breaths away from Dean on the sofa. This time the silence that fills the air is a strange sort of comfort, almost as if understanding was a gaseous form. 

 

Hey Jude was playing softly from Castiel's iPod and Dean sung along under his breath until the song finished and the next one started. 

 

"I'm not depressed, or suicidal..." He whispered and Castiel had to strain his ears to catch the words. "I just need to _feel_ something. It's hard to describe Cas..." Dean lets out a shaky laugh. "It feels so weird to be actually saying this out loud. You never indicated that you knew. I don't even think _Sam_ knows and that nerd knows everything." 

 

Castiel swallowed. "I noticed about a month ago... When we were camping with Bobby and you wouldn't come swimming with me. I thought it was strange so I started paying closer attention." 

 

"You've known for a _month_?" 

 

Nodding, Castiel runs the tips of his finger along the seams of Dean's jeans. Not meeting his eyes. 

 

"Why didn't you say anything?" _He doesn't sound mad_ , Castiel thinks and he looks up through his lashes and catches Dean's gaze. 

 

"I didn't know what I could say... I-" Castiel stops and swallows the rest of his sentence. It was stupid anyway. 

 

"Cas?" Dean tilts his own body into Castiel's and reaches up to cup his boyfriends cheek. With his thumb tracing soothing circles into his cheek bone, Dean tilts Castiel's head up and locks their eyes together. "You know I love you, right?" 

 

Castiel's face warms and the tips of his ears go pink with joy. 

 

"I'm proud of you, for speaking to me about this. You don't need to worry either, I'm okay." 

 

"Dean," Castiel starts slowly. "I'm the one who's suppose to be comforting you." Dean chuckles and crowds Castiel's space. 

 

"You already have. Maybe... Maybe this is all that I need. Okay?" 

 

"Okay." Castiel says into a heated kiss from Dean and soon he finds himself stradling Dean's lap on the sofa, thighs either side of Dean's hips, hands under Dean's shirt, burning against his skin. 

 

"Dean wait." Sitting up straight on Dean's lap, Castiel clears his throat and wipes spit from his mouth with the back of his wrist. Dean's hair is spiked from Castiel running his hands through it multiple times and there's a lovely trail of hickeys marking Dean on his jaw and neck. "The pie is going to burn." He says seriously and Dean jumps to his feet hazardously, flinging Castiel off his lap in the process. Castiel laughs as he watches Dean power walk to kitchen.


End file.
